Out In The Wastes
by AlexFalTon
Summary: Oakleaf is a squirrel, living a regular life in the trees. All of that changed when he got captured by a fox. Where ever he's going, it won't be pretty. To the land known as the Wastes, only that's more than what meets the eyes. Will Oakleaf find adventure? Or will it be misery? What difference is there?
1. Chapter 1: Into The Waste

_**Oakleaf**_

"I can't believe this," the fox growled. "What did I do deserve this?"

"Do you want me to answer that for you?" Oak growled back.

The rope around the squirrel's neck was pulled harshly.

The pull forced him to trip into the muddy ground. The wet dirt was as moist and dirty, spreading into Oak's dark red fur. It was one thing to play with the mud as Oak had done as a child, and it's another when being pulled into one by a mongrel who made Oak's life unbearable this entire week they've been traveling the Mossflower woods.

"Shut it, slave," the fox had said. The squirrel grounded his teeth.

Slave.

One unlucky branch and this is how it turned out. _Slave!_ That vicious vulpine vermin had another thing coming to him once Oak gets out of his binds.

"Get up from the dirt," the vermin ordered. "We don't have all day."

Oak had to force himself off the mud, which was no easy feat seeing as his hands are tied together.

Once he got the mud out of his eyes, swiping it with his paws, Oak's eyes narrowed at the sight of his capture.

The fox was a strange-looking creature. For one, Oak never heard of foxes having such long ears. The fox was a straight postured goon with sharp teeth. But his long ears looked almost mouse-like but narrower, but not like bunnies either. Another thing was his silvery yellow fur, while unkept due to nature conditioning (not like Oak is in any better shape), but some parts of his body was cleaned and maintained, such as his head.

He seems well-dressed too. The fox has armor while Oak was left with his trousers.

"Come along now, slave. We're almost there," Oak's captor spoken.

_Where even are they going? _That's been in his mind for a while now.

"And don't try to escape like last time," the fox then proceed to pat his rapier - unusual for a vermin to have one - to get his meaning across. "I'd hate to have to cut off my merchandise any time soon."

The long-eared fox pulled on the rope that connected Oak once more, and they continued to travel this muddy path into wherever.

_What a week this has been,_ so thought Oak. Most of his life had been pleasant. He was raised in Treefort, lived with friends, did his chores like everyone else in the community.

Oak glared at the fox's backside.

Then bloody vermins attacked like they usually do.

No one saw it coming. Oak certainly didn't. It was their way to fight against vermin hordes and fought they did. There was fighting, and there was death. Oak had his bow at hand and took the position as many other squirrels had at some sturdy branch in the trees. Oak never killed anybeast before, and he never had the chance either. The branch Oak stood on wasn't solid like all the others, and... and that was the last thing Oak remembered.

He fell off a tree.

_What kind of a squirrel falls off a tree!?_ It's embarrassing beyond belief.

What little else Oak remembers is being carried or dragged by the fox he's glaring at, and that the forest was on fire. And fire usually didn't do well when most homes in_ Tree_fort were actual _trees_.

In any case, when there's going to be the first sign of escape, of course, the squirrel would try to run away.

When the fox was going for out for a tinkle, Oak chewed on the rope and made headway out. Only it was too late, the fox came out and threw one extremely sharp rock which hit the back of Oak's head.

Now, the ropes were tighter than before, and the squirrel's ribs were aching.

In all honesty, the most annoying thing was not knowing what happened at the Treefort. Is everyone alright? Did his fellow woodlander's beat back the vermin horde that attacked his home? Oak tried to get the fox to talk to him, to tell him anything.

Only the fox replied with, "_Shut it, slave. I didn't give you any right to speak._"

The fox had said that warning so casually Oak felt his temper might get the better of him.

And when Oak tried to continue speaking, he kept getting pulled with the tight rope around his neck or got a quick punch to the stomach. Never before has Oak felt such dislike towards a single beast, but the fox is truly letting making his feelings known for him.

Oak fought back, he wouldn't be a proud woodlander if he didn't, but the fox proved to be a better fighter than him.

If only he had a bow and a couple of arrows, Oak would wipe that smug look on that sober foxes face.

The squirrel sighs.

This is the absolute worst.

"Ah, we're finally out of here."

Oak heard the fox speak, and for once, it wasn't a command of some kind.

The prisoner's eye's widened.

The lack of tree's in the land in front of the squirrel seemed foreign to him. There was nothing there. First, there's some bushes and grass, but when you look farther, there's sand. Nothing at all other than sand. Miles and miles strands of sand along with the desolate lifeless ground.

"Is this the _Wastes_? There's nothing out there," Oak said, unsure of what the fox had planned.

He was expecting the fox to tell him to shut up again, but instead, the captor said, "There's more to the world than just these woods."

The fox left it at that and moved to the wastes.

"There's nothing out there!" Oak shouted, kept moving regardless. "Nothing but sand. There's nothing but death here."

"Is that what you truly believe?" the fox asked.

"Yes?" Oak replied, now uncertain. He's heard stories that there's nothing out in the east of Mossflower, only sand, and death. What else would be out there? Then again, what does Oak know about the east?

The vermin's face cracked a sharp grin. "It's good to see a woodlander such as yourself being ignorant to the world. Must mean others think alike."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oak asked, clearly with an angered tone. First the abuse, now this presumably vague insult. It was a matter of time before Oak wanted to speak out again.

The fox pulled the rope once more, and the squirrel nearly tripped once more.

"Don't take that tone with me, slave," the fox chided, further angering the squirrel. Hard not to.

"Or maybe I wi-"

Oak didn't finish that sentence since the fox quickly whipped his rapier. Which founded itself dangerously close to the woodlander's muddy torso. The fox stoically said, "Say another word _slave,_ or you'll be finding your stomach in the outside where it doesn't belong."

What choice did he have? Oakleaf wisely chooses to be silent.

The long-eared fox moved the rapier away, putting it back to its sheath. "Last warning. Now, let's walk."

Two beasts walk out of the Mossflower.

And into the Eastern Wastes.

* * *

**A/N: And this strange adventure begins! :D **

**I wanted to make something for the New Year, and I always wanted to make a Redwall fic. Please give me any constructive criticism. In any case, I kinda wanted to get _out_ of the Mossflower scene. Always some vermin horde around and some goodie-too-shoes woodlanders. I felt like I needed a new setting, away from the Mossflower where it seems wrong to mess with, and I want to try my hands in some good old fashion world-building. Man, this is going to be a challenge. **

**Let's hope 2020 will be the year for me. **


	2. Chapter 2: The Dangers Ahead

**_Oakleaf_**

Oak... Oak hates everything about this desolate wasteland, and it hasn't even been a full day yet.

It's sandy. It's hot. Oak's fur feel's as though it is on fire, but it's untouchable.

Not to mention the sweat from the walking.

Oak never knew the sun could be such a cruel mistress.

Also, the rope! This cursed rope that dreaded fox has around his neck and hands. It's not the slave-driving part of that's making the squirrel's rope so uncomfortable. Or at least, not entirely. It's so itchy!

He hates this desert. He hates this rope. He hates that fox, and by Martin, Oak hates him with newfound hatred.

The long-eared fox looked at the sweaty squirrel.

"You'll get used to the heat," he said and left it at that.

Oak's eye twitched at that.

_How is he so unaffected by this heat?_ Oak thought, trying to figure it out. _With armor, no less!_

"I hate my life," he mumbled quietly. No one but the wind heard him.

What kind of existence has Oak been living? Not a special one. He's nothing more than one regular tree-hopper in a place called Treefort. Then some vermin attacked his home, and the first thing that happened was Oak falling off a stupid _tree_. And who would've imagined that Oak being kidnapped and enslaved by a stone-faced long-eared stupid-looking fox?

Certainly not Oak. Where is the fox even taking him? Why him? Why not kill him? What life is there in the Wastes? There's nothing here! Nothing but sand! Oak has so many questions, but so few answers.

Not like the fox is going to answer. Unless it's "move slave" or "shut it, slave", unbelievable vermin that he is.

When the walking continued, Oak noticed something.

Bones.

There was bones close to his left. The closer Oak looked, the more he sees an entire mass of bones to fit a beast.

"There's a skeleton there," I mentioned, hoping and failing to hid my worry.

"_What_?" Added to Oak's worry, the fox listened and didn't chastise him. He turned to see the nearby skeleton and walked forward to it (along with Oak, of course).

"Hell's Gates, this is fresh," the capturer hissed.

"Fresh?" Oak repeated, observing fully with concern at the skeleton. It appeared to be a rat or a mouse (Oak can't tell which) once upon a time. There's also a torn bag and a sword closeby. Oak thought about taking it, but he remembered his arms was still roped together.

The former resident of Treefort realizes that if there's anything or anyone in these Wastes, ready to fight and kill, he won't like his chances.

Unexpectedly, the fox took out his strange stupid-looking sword - Oak knows it's a rapier - and starting walking towards Oak with this serious look on his face.

"Wait! What are yo-"

Oak shouted but didn't get to finish as the fox swiped accordingly with his rapier. Next thing Oak knows, the ropes drop into the sand.

The squirrel looked at his wrists, seeing it's now free to move again. He looked at the fox.

The fox freed him?

"Why did you do that?" he asked, rubbing his wrists, trying to get the red blood warmed up.

"How else are you going to run?" the fox replied, not looking at Oak, instead of looking around for something.

Oak felt himself sweating more, and it's not from the heat. The long-eared fox looked as if a fight is going to happen. "Run from what exactly?"

The fox looked at him steely, holding his rapier tightly. "Could be anything. Camel spiders, lizards, giant snake, jackrabbits," Oak blinked. Did he say _rabbits_? "or quite possibly-"

And the earth shook, and some black spike was coming out of the ground.

"_Scorpians_!" the fox shouted.

The sand exploded, and something came out from it.

It was a giant dark monster, with eight legs, and two large claws snapping at Oak and the fox. Of course, it's hard not to see the long stretchable stinger looking as if it's going to strike at any moment.

The scorpion monster rushed to us, and Oak instinctively ran away.

He had too. What else was he going to do?

The fox, on the other hand, went out in a defensive stance. Looks like the mad vulpine is going to fight against it.

And on the fight goes.

Quickly the scorpion attacks with its claws, but the fox moved faster, dodging out of the claws way, and attempted to strike one of the legs. The fox was close in doing so, but the tail of the scorpion struck, making the long-eared fox step backward.

Nothing is ever so easy. The scorpion is a larger foe, and with its claws, it could be count as a dual-wielding weapon. Not to mention that awful tail that keeps disallowing the fox to strike anything.

At the very least, the fox can dodge the attacks. The question is: for how long?

The scorpion isn't as faster the fox, but it's possible it has more stamina, and it's clear that its strength is above both Oak and the fox.

Oak stopped running and looked back intently on the fight.

It only took four seconds for the giant claw monster to scratch the fox in his shoulder. It was a small thing, but there was blood visible to Oak's eyes.

He doesn't believe the fox will win.

Not without help.

_What!? No!_, a piece of Oak's mind shouted. _The fox put me in this spot in the first place. He put a collar on me! Why on Martin's name should we help the fox?_

Because he's a squirrel. Oak's a woodlander, a _goodbeast_. Goodbeast's help other beasts. Whatever the fox had done to him, Oak would be as bad if he left the fox to die and get eaten from a desert monster. Besides, he let him go from his collars to escape. That has to mean something.

The bones of one's remains was right there, and beside it was a sword.

Oak ran and grabbed it. He wished it was a bow. _Oh, what I'd do with a bow right now,_ he thought.

While the scorpion creature had its attention mindlessly on the fox, Oak managed hit it on the side. Its hide was strong, however, and it merely scratched rather than wounded anything on the creature's body.

The scorpion turns to Oak with its frighteningly large claws. Angered greatly if it's snapping was any indication.

_This wasn't the best idea_, so thought the squirrel.

By the back of the scorpions left claw, it smacked Oak body and forced the squirrel to fall on his backside to the sand. The scorpion was now frightfully standing in front of Oak, and the stinger looked _much_ scarier up close.

Clearly, not the best decision Oak made.

He didn't have enough time to get out of the ground. The stinger entered Oak's torso, and it was _excruciating_. Never before has Oak felt such pain. He screamed from the agony.

Oak's vision began to blur as the stinger was taken away.

He's not doing so well.

In what he saw next was the fox get on top of the scorpion, stabbing the scorpion right in what could be either it's face or mouth. Perhaps it's brian? Not only is Oak's vision fading, but his hearing as well. Whatever the case, the scorpion released a pained screeching noise. It was quite loud.

Next thing Oak knew, a large shadow fell over him.

The squirrel formerly of Treefort closed his eyes after that.

* * *

**A/N: So... Is Oak dead? Cause wow. That would suck bad, it's only the start of the series. Ha! Yeah, any opinions?**

**Reviews:**

**Kay of Arda: Yeah Oak is in a little pickle right now. And mayyyybe we're he's going, there's going to be slaves. :) Maybe there shouldn't be a smile in this sentence? By the way everyone, Kay here is the one who made Oak as a character. I'm considering other people giving me ideas for characters as well. **

**The Grey Coincidence: Thanks man for reading! Appreciate it! Well, you seem to be getting a few ideas right. Such as the fox companion/slaver being a fennec fox and that there's _something_ inhabitable in the Wastes. That's gonna wait a bit. Sorry for being vague. **

**Waycaster: What's out of the ordinary with a fox having a rapier? ;) Anyway, thanks for the compliments. I hope I'll continue to write in a somewhat good manner. **

**Sebias of Redwall: Thanks Sebias! I noticed you around too! I've been thinking about reading about your The Grey Warlord for a while. I hope one day I will. Hope you**

**Lord demon: You, my weird friend are full of interesting ideas! Giant worms? Shit, maybe I should add that. But that's going to be a while. The mammoth thing tho? I don't know how to add that in a _desert_. It's kinda like adding a penguin.**


	3. Chapter 3: That's Just How Life Is

**_Oakleaf_**

Oak opened his eyes.

He saw... a roof. What happened? Oakleaf had a terrible memory of being kidnapped by a fox and being dragged in a damnable wasteland full of sand and death.

No. No, that can't be true. It's _ridiculous_! Absolutely nutters!

"Ahh." he led out a morning moan.

Then...

Then he saw a giant bird.

"You look quite _tasty_," it said, licking its beak.

"_AHHHHHHHHHHH_!"

Then the giant bird with the ugly beak got startled, and screamed,

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHH_!"

"_AHHHHHHHH_!/_AHHHHHHHHHH_!"

It lasted more than a minute. It was quite an impressive, if annoying, display.

"WHAT IN _HANNAH'S ICY BLUE HELL_ ARE YOU TWO SCREAMING ABOUT!"

The squirrel and strange giant bird stopped in unison.

A disheveled fox walked in the ginormous tent Oak and the bird crowed, looking more annoyed than Oak has ever seen the fox. Wait, there's a fox...

"Oh, Martin, please tell you're not real."

"I'm real, squirrel."

Oak softly cried in response.

"Good morning to you as well," the fox said, annoyed. The vulpine turned to the giant bird. "What happened here?"

The avian somehow made its beak grin (which Oak didn't know was physically possible). "Funny bushtail cried when he saw my pretty bill. Very amusing, so Icewing joined in the screaming. Icewing and Sandy learned that squirrel has a good set of lungs."

"I see."

"-Also, it means loud bushtail can is alive and well."

"That's good, Icewing," the fox didn't sound _too_ annoyed. He was more... resigned. As if accepting his fate to an executioner.

Icewing chuckled. Oak doesn't know what to make of his situation anymore. Shouldn't he be died by now? Well, he can guess that the fox and giant strange bird healed him after fighting that scorpion, but he doesn't _quite_ understand why? Or perhaps, he's still in a questionable state of drowsiness and imaging the whole thing.

Oak is still having trouble wondering what kind of bird Icewing is? A falcon? An eagle? The tip of her beak is black, while the rest of her features are brown feathers with a white underbelly. In Treefort, he's accustomed to robins and sparrows, but Icewing looks nothing like them.

"Why did you save me? Back at with the scorpion?" the strange fox asks.

That was a good question.

Even he's wondering why he would do such a thing, for a fox no less.

"Because it was the right thing to do," Oak answered honestly.

The fox raised a brow. "So it wasn't because I was your best chance of getting through the desert."

"...That could work too."

Icewing snorted, amused. "Stupid squirrel. Almost got killed playing a hero. You should be lucky the scorpion wasn't a poisonous kind. You'd die otherwise. Then again, Icewing brought you and Sandy here, healed you. So, that would make _Icewing_ the true hero here."

She sounded proud of that. Oak supposes he should thank her - but honestly, he's too frightened of her sharp beak; it looks like she'd have it easy eating him. Maybe when he's less afraid of her.

"Your arrival was timely," the fox said and left it. He then proceeded to study Oak. "You perplex me, squirrel, and disregarding the circumstances of our earlier situation, your assistance with the scorpion do say that _I_ do owe you a debt of gratitude."

Oak does not need any debt. Martin the Warrior was a hero, saving others and slaying monsters. That's who Oak wants to be. Sure enough - foxes weren't part of the stories of as the damsel of distress and more villain horde leader, but slaying the scorpion (if only in part) was still a heroic and right thing to do.

Now that all the pulling chains and fighting claw beasts are over - Oak realizes that he has a question that he should've asked a long while ago.

"What happened to my home?" Oak questioned, glaring at the long-ear fox.

The air tensed, and the strange big bird noticed when the fox stiffened.

"Oh, fun's over. I'll get going," and so, the avian exited. The red squirrel now noticed how big this tent is, but that's not what's important at the moment.

Oak and the fox stared at one another.

"Well, _Sandy_, will you tell me what happened?"

"That's not my name."

"Don't care at the moment," Oak replied, sounding aggressive. Whatever. He's been through a few stressful days, and he's beyond small pleasantries. "What _happened_ to my home? _Tell me!_"

"...I think you already know the answer to that."

_That doesn't mean I want to be right,_ Oak lamented and then rightfully angered. "I'd rather hear you say it."

"It burned to the ground. Your home was one of the many settlements burned and pillaged throughout Mossflower. The inhabitants who were unfortunate living there were either killed, enslaved, or _worse. _The process of its destruction was not unique, it's as you'd expect when a horde comes to raid," 'Sandy' doesn't show any sign of unease or smugness or pity, he's said all that as if it was nothing but a fact.

"Because sometimes, that's just how life is. Unfair. Especially those that simply want to live a simple life."

The bluntness of it, however, did hurt Oak. He knew it would, but he wasn't expecting it to give him such a _heartache_. How could he say that so calmly? _Oh, Martin_, Oak thinks of the total sadness. _All my friends. All my neighbors. What of their fates? Is it as the fox said? _Oak let a few liquid drops spill from his eyes. _What about Ol' Ozzy? The closest thing I had to a parent. Is... is he gone? _

A sudden memory comes up for Oak. An old gift. He patted his pants, finding his pockets empty.

_Where is it!? Where is it!?_

"Are you looking for this?" said the fox.

Oak turned right away, tears in the corner. In one of the foxes' paws, is a gold medal. It was shaped like a maple leaf. He was observing it interestingly. "In hindsight, I should have checked your pockets earlier, but I know you didn't have any weapons on you, so I didn't. I was amazed to find something like this. I mean - it's pure _gold_. This doesn't come cheap, and it's designed too."

"_Give that back!_" Oak bellowed and got out of bed. There was a slight pain in his chest, but he weathered through it.

He swiped his medal off that dirty foxes paw. "It's _mine_," he growled.

"It's yours," he replied evenly, not a bit troubled by the squirrel's aggression.

"Were you part of it? Aren't you?!" Oak clenched his paws, questioned madly.

"I'm not a member of that horde," Sandy answered, he was forced to have to take a step back. Oak was close to punching of the snout out of that ugly vermin. "I swear by my name."

_Do foxes even have the honor to swear by in the first place?_ Oak almost replied hotly, but the fox was looking at him straight in the eyes the whole time and Oak find it hard to doubt him. But then he remembers being pulled here in the first place. "But you enslaved me?"

"I did, but I also saved you," Sandy confesses. _What do you mean by that?_ Oak was confused, and it showed. So the fox elaborated, "Other hordebeasts were going to kill you. Then I saved your life by claiming you as property."

Wow, thanks for that.

"So you weren't part of the horde, but they let you do what you did," Oak said suspiciously, and now wonders if the fox is poorly lying about everything earlier. _Bad lie to convince me about not being a hordesbeast._

"You can say that I was a temporary guest," Sandy said.

"Truly," the doubt was thick in Oak's voice.

Now there was an annoying glance in Sandy's face, "It's not as if I was welcome in certain parts of Mossflower. With me being a fox."

That... that wasn't an unfair point.

Oak didn't know what else to say - he was now mentally exhausted from it all. He didn't know whether to believe the vulpine or not.

Well, perhaps, he did have one question left.

"Who was the leader of the horde?" Oak thought it best to ask about this fiend who took about his friends and home.

"Dirk the Darkmore, that's the rat's name," the fox answered.

Good. He has a name. _How should I deal with him?_ the squirrel questioned himself. How does one even defeat a horde army? Oak doesn't know how he's going to do it, but he's going do. One day. Make that vermin pay for what he's done and all the cruelty he unleashed.

"You should take a rest, squirrel," so said the fox. "For your betterment. A lot has been mentioned, and you need time to think and calm yourself."

Oak glared at the fox. "I was going to do that anyway."

And so the squirrel laid to rest. He heard the fox leave the tent. Oak is still not sure what make of him, but he will soon enough. Whether friend or foe, the squirrel is going to have to leave.

But right now, the squirrel must cry and grief.

* * *

**A/N: So, our hero is not dead. Nope, got saved by the bird. Anyone can guess what Icewing is? I'm sure you guys can figure it out. And besides that, Oak is going through something, and people _cry_ when they lose loved ones. And Oakleaf lost everything. So early, I know, but I wanted this out of the way. I wish I can update regularly, but I don't think I can make promises. **

**The Grey Coincidence: Good news, your right. Oak's alive! Hey, yeah, I'm being intentionally vague with the Waste. Hopefully, that'll be over soon. Right in this chapter, it's more of a 'how did I get here?' part of the story with Oak. And as for the Waste being dangerous, well, I just want to say that Mossflower is hardly any better. **

**Lord Demon: I don't know why you keep mentioning worms, but I probably should tell you ahead of time that there will be no bugs in this story. **

**SerKayofArda: Well, your right about that. Oak has plot armor right now. I'm not a _complete_ monster.**

**CasterWay: Thanks for the review Caster! Anyway, well, yeah. It's a desert. You'd think I'd _not_ let a scorpion fight happen sometime. XD**

**Sebias of Redwall: Oak lives! XD You're right, I'm not that cruel. And yeah, thanks for the critique on the fight scene, I promise not to do a cliff-hanger again..., but that isn't fun for me and I enjoy seeing you guys suffering and wondering, but no, seriously, you're right. Cliffhangers are a mood killer, and I'll not be like that... most of the time. Fox and squirrel getting alon- Wait! You already figured out the plot! OH NO! What will I do? Maybe write it. And other things. XD**


	4. Chapter 4: The Big Bad

**WARNING: SWEAR WORDS AND BLOOD AND DEATH**

**_Dirk The Darkmore_**

"Ha, _ha_! Drink up, ya slimy scoundrels!" the vermin horde leader praised and laughed as he raised his cup of wine. "We got ourselves more _bounty_! So, what better use is there but to celebrate with it!"

A cheer went throughout the horde, every vermin - from fox to stoat - also had their stolen cups and stolen alcohol in their paws.

"To Dirk the Darkmore!" Redscar, Dirk's most loyal lackey ferret, shouted.

"_To Dirk the Darkmore!_"

Said rat leader smirks when he cheered his name, and he drinks his cup proudly. He earned it.

Dirk licks his lips when he's done, and thinks, _If there's one thing those useful woodlanders know to do, it's how to make good rum._ Beyond that, they are useless and pathetic. Not to mention stupid, especially those who hide in the trees. Don't they fear fire? Cause Dirk certainly knows how to exploit that.

_Those woodlanders_, the rat thought in disgust. _So weak_. But then the rat smirked cruelly. He got up from his wooden throne and decided to check up on something.

Redscar was talking to a fox as Dirk walked passed him, the ferret with a scar on his exposed chest said, "Chief, where yea going?!"

"Just a little walk, Scar," the warlord said, the warlord's nasty voice made the fox shiver, and decide to take a few steps away. Redscar wasn't a coward, so he joined in with his warlord on this 'walk'. The Darkmore can always count on his favorite lieutenant. Besides, who knows what stupid beast in his horde might pick a fight with him - especially when they're intoxicated. The two walked as most of the drunk horde soldiers kept a few feet away from them. Look's like Redscar wanted to talk.

"Say, what happened to dat fox?" the right-paw ferret asked curiously.

"The coward ya yew talking too?" Dirk replied, confused.

"No, the big-eared fox. With dah fancy talk."

"Oh, that slimy beast," the warlord recalled. "Funny story, there was this squirrel we wanted to kill - and you won't believe this - he fell off a tree!" The ferret's eyes widened in disbelief. Dirk barked out a laugh. "That's what I thought. What was I - oh ye, one of ours wanted to kill the stupid woodlander, but the fox wanted the red furry thing to himself and went on to enslave him. He left after we burned the fort hidden within the trees."

"Just like dat?" Redscar drew a brow. "Ya didn't object or nothing, ya know, kill him as ye usually do with deserters? It sounds like somethin' ye be annoyed with a lot."

"Ya know, Scar, one of ours asked me that and I killed her. Ya're lucky we both know each for me to answer that question," Dirk was indeed annoyed, but he refrained himself from threatening or stabbing the closest beast he might consider a friend(a loose term, really).

The ferret horde member nodded happily. "I know."

"Anyway, it don't matter to me _that_ much," Dirk was only minorly offended by what happened. "An' the fox was a guest here, not one of us, he could fuck right along whenever he pleases. Not worth making much fuss over one stupid squirrel anyway."

"Dat brings me to another question: why was that fox so important? I'd imagine he's another's warlord's git, with his education. That's the only reason I can imagine not gutting him."

Now there's a reminder that Dirk was glad Redscar was his most loyal mate. The ferret can be clever when he wants to be - despite his stupid-looking appearance. He has a stupid hat, and he refuses to wear a shirt so he can't hide his scar he got fighting a badger(admittedly, an enraged young one when Dirk had killed his parents in front of him, but no one needs to know that).

"Ya're close there, Scar. Real close," Dirk admitted. "No, the slimy toad had connections to the Trader."

"Oh," Redscar said, figuring it out quickly. "Ya, dat about does it, doesn't it?"

The silence on the way was the ferret's confirmation.

Good. Dirk doesn't need to say anything more about it. The Trader. Even the warlord can't mess around his relationship with him. Bad for business, the only business Dirk would willingly participate in - _slave trading_. It's a simple thing. Dirk raids, get woodlanders to be slaves and sells them to Trader. In return, the Trader gives well-earned gold to Dirk.

Then Redscar brought something up, cause, of course, he would.

"What do ya think the Trader does with all da slaves?"

"What do ya _think_? Sell them."

"Ya, But ta who?"

"Who gives a fuck, Scar? We get paid for our business, and he does his own thing. Leave it at that," Dirk growled. "Lucky fox, having the Trader as a friend. I'd kill him if I wanted to otherwise."

"Yep, ya are the best right bastard there is, chief," Redscar complimented.

_Got that right_, Dirk smirked. _This rat is going to make it big one day, be the next Cluny the Scourge. Take the Mossflower for himself. Noonvale, towns, Salamanstom, and last but not least, Redwall. _The warlord frowned at thinking of the supposed invincible abbey. _Unquestionably last. No hurry to get killed by a bell._

And so, the warlord, and his loyal companion, went to see the slave pin in triumphant.

Dirk had a cruel smile that he couldn't help resisting. Seeing so many woodlanders miserable makes his day.

Squirrels, hedgehogs, mouses, voles, and a few rabbits. All dirty, skinny, and tired. Chains were connected to all the woodlanders here, if one escapes, the rest must follow - and that's not very practical with the conditions their in. The moment they saw Dirk, many of them looked down - one even cried - and Dirk relished the fear and hatred, but that's not why he's here. No, there is always an example to be made, especially towards those that don't listen.

One example could be that old one-armed squirrel that was staring at the warlord with something the rat wants to break. Something in that squirrel's eye, it's noticeable when the beast was the only one who didn't have his head down. He still had that something...

_Resistance_.

_What better way for Dirk the Darkmore to pass the time than to break a slave's spirit,_ the warlord thought.

Walking to the squirrel, the rat saw that the old squirrel was in better shape than most of the others - despite his age. He had a warrior's build. He has a short white beard, and his once brown fur is greying. Dirk is unsure if the stump that used to be his left arm was due to his Warband or a previous incident, not that he cares much. One slave that was nearest to the squirrel said "Oz! put your head down!". The squirrel didn't listen to that sage advice. Good, it was too late anyhow.

"Well, ya old tool, having a good time here?" Dirk asked with a false smile.

"Hardly," the squirrel glared at the rat. "It _was_ good, barely. But seeing your ugly mug can ruin anyone's day."

Dirk snarled at the insult, taking out his dagger. "Ya sure like to talk, don't ya squirrel?"

"No, I talk small, I assure you," the slave replied naturally. "Not sure about you, I hope you don't talk much, that breathe of yours is just so damn horrendous."

The squirrel went about to plug his nose with his paws, looking offended. The _gall_ of this slave. And right in front of Dirk as well. _I'm not going to be insulted by some uppity woodlander_, the rat grounded his small fangs in anger.

Dirk punched the squirrel in the stomach with as much force he can muster, and the slave went on his knees, coughing. The squirrel coughed some more. "Oh. *hack* You're a mighty warlord, certainly. Beating up a weak old beast *hack* while he has no weapons of his own. How _brave_ of you."

This time, the warlord punched the squirrel's face. He was bleeding, and the squirrel didn't seem bothered by it one bit. The squirrel _laughed_ at his face. "By Martin, can you be any more *hack* pathetic, rodent?"

"_What_?" Dirk seethed. This squirrel is getting on his nerves. The warlord's paws grabbed the squirrel's neck to pull him closer. "_Pathetic_!" he spat. "Do you see where ya are right now, squirrel? Do ya not know your place? Ya're a slave! A dirty, simply little woodlander! Do ya know who I am?!"

The old squirrel shrugged, appearing unconcerned. "Some warlord," he answered. "You're not the first, and certainly not going to be the last. But like all the others, I bet you think you're going to be some scary story that will haunt future generations, while in truth, you're nothing but a _footnote_ in history. Barely mentioned, not even remembered. Because the fact is, you're nothing special. You're the same as any other warlord, and like them, you're going to have a miserable end."

"That... That was not true!" the warlord shouted. Dirk had destroyed many homes, devastated many lives. He will be remembered; be the next Cluny the Scourge. That's his destiny. He's not some random raider.

"Truly? Name one warlord who had a happy ending."

The rat had no answer to him.

What's the difference between him and the other warlords of the past? There were many like him - and Dirk only knows one or two who everyone remembers. Dirk was only a little shaken by the squirrels, and he didn't show it. No, instead, the rat's eyes blazed in rightful cold fury. At first, the squirrel was annoying and Dirk wanted to teach him a lesson. Now, he wants him to die.

The warlord put his dagger pointing to the squirrel's stomach. "Have any last words, ya fucking woodlander?"

"No. Not really. I don't have much to live for now that my boy is gone," the squirrel's eyes was equally cold as the two looked at each other. "But I will be seeing you in the Hellgates after you die. And you will _die_, just like every other warlord."

Dirk the Darkmore was about to stab the old slave, but then...

_"EULALIA! EULALIA! EULALIA!"_

A warcry was heard.

The squirrel laughed at seeing Dirk's surprised expression. He growled and noticed his dagger was bleeding inside the squirrels. He threw the treehopper to the ground and heard sounds of arrows and panic.

"Oh, hellgates," the warlord cursed as he marched out of the slave pin, nervous beyond belief.

There was more of that accursed battle cry Dirk and every other warlord had been warned about: "_Eulalia_!" The continued noises of fighting don't help much. It was clear that the _Long Patrol_ was here. Not only that, but chances are also, so is the _fucking _Badger Lord.

Redscar came to Dirk's side, equally nervous, "Cheif, this ain't gut."

"_Really! _I didn't notice!" he said back harshly. Redscar nodded.

The two sprinted onwards.

Taking a sword from a nearby died weasel with an arrow to the throat, Dirk decided that it'll do. But the worry continued. Oh, so it continued.

_No_.

He saw another one of his hordebeasts fighting a hare, and the hare stabbed the hordebeast easily.

_No_. _No_.

A stoat wanted to run, but he was too drunk and couldn't dodge the arrow's that dug into his back anyway.

_No! No! No!_

Of course, it certainly wasn't about concern for any of the hordebeasts in his command. But his army, the one he's worked so hard on building. The horde that was supposed to be destroying all of the Mossflower. What happened to the scouts!? We were all having a feast today, having much rum to drink and...

oh.

Redscar looked at the chaos in dread. "Yaaaaa, I'm gonna go now, Dirk. Have a nice day, ol bud."

"What?" Dirk turned to see his right-paw beast already running as fast as he can. The rat was wide-jawed from his most loyal beast leaving him with all this. "_Scar! Yar a dirty coward!_"

That only got the attention of a few of the enemies. The hares had some nasty grin on them as well.

Dirk wasn't as lucky as Redscar and noticed that the red-coated flufftails were cornering the warlord each second. The rat tensed and had his sword ready. _Hellgate! I'm going to have my fight my way out._

Then, he noticed one of the biggest bloody beasts he'd laid his eye.

A badger. No, The Badger Lord. The badger was four times than most average-sized critters, and the beast's fur was all black. Quite strange, usually badgers had white stripes, but not this one. No, this was no ordinary beast.

"Get him!" some half-drunk vermin yelled and attempted to strick at the badger. There were four of them, and they were charging right at the badger. Dirk hopes that would be enough, but his hopes were quickly burned away.

The badger had a longsword on him, one to match his large stature. Another notable feature about the sword was that it was a black blade(look's like the badger had a theme going). And with it, he _beheaded_ all four vermin with one swing of his sword and strength.

Dirk knew who the badger was. Somebeast he didn't want to have to deal with yet.

It was Lord _Roxton Shadowsword_.

And worse, the badger saw Dirk.

The rat gulped.

_It's over_, he thought to himself. Never before had he felt so defeated. And it hasn't even been ten minutes yet. How did it go so wrong in only a few moments?

_Agh. Wonder what it says about me that the biggest regret is that I forgot to kill that annoying old squirrel?_ Dirk has other things to regret(like how to avoid this whole stinking mess, certainly), but that one can first in mind. He stabbed once, but it wasn't fatal.

Well, if Dirk was going to die, let it be fighting a Badger Lord. There's no better way than that.

"Come on, badger!" the warlord shouts more bravely than he is, running towards the Badger Lord. "Let us fight!"

The giant coal-black furred badger looked down as the rat was running at him, didn't even move from his spot.

Dirk heard his reply.

"Nah."

Roxton made a signal with his paw, and Dirk couldn't stop any of the arrows from landing at him. There was one in his right leg. _Two_ arrows pierced him in in the shoulder blades, and one more had him right in the torso - hopefully, nothing fatal. "AHHHHH!" Dirk screamed in pain.

And the fallen horde leader fell on his back, seething in pain.

Worse yet, the Badger Lord was right in front of him.

"Oh, you're still alive after that," Roxton stated, observing the pained rat. "Good. For me, that is. Not you."

"Fuck you!"

"You're also quite crude, not surprising."

"You coward! You were supposed to fight me! One on one!"

The badger blinked at that. And he chuckled as a response to that. "So I was right, you wanted a noble death. And you honestly thought that I would give you the _satisfaction_ of dying from my blade." The Lord of Salamadastrom shook his head. "No. That is far too quick of an end for a rodent such as yourself." He shook his head, almost disappointed. "I fought other horde leaders, Dirk that Darkmore. Warlords more intelligent and mighty, some were even half-way respectable. _You_, however, were by far, the easiest to defeat. And it's impossible to hold any respect for a vermin such as yourself."

Somehow, that hurt Dirk more than the arrows.

Dirk was then lifted by his left leg by Roxton, and the rat was panicking. "What are ya doing!?"

"Giving you the justice you deserve."

That vague and foreboding answer only made Dirk more frightened. He tried to claw, shake, and wiggle his way out to get his leg from out of the Badger Lord's paw, but it was no use.

There were two hares, saluting. The older one has a blue coat and the other in red.

"We freed the captives, M'lord," informed the hare with the blue coat.

Roxton nodded. "That's all good, Fredrick."

The flufftail made a coughing noise. "It's Sergeant, M'lord. Don't do this in front of the horde leader. It's a breach of protocol."

"Of course," said the Badger Lord, slightly grinning.

Dirk noticed that they were nearby the slave pin and each of his slaves was leaving the area without a collar. The woodlanders were happy and hopeful at being free, but when they saw Dirk, it wasn't any of the usual dread they should have. No, now there lies anger and malice.

"My fellow beasts," Roxton announced to the crowd, voice loud and hardy. The raised Dirk a little higher. "This here was once a warlord, now a captive. It's not up to me to declare my justice upon the rat. Not when you all were the one's to suffer from his terror."

He threw Dirk right in front of the slaves.

"What do you say?"

What was once meek woodlanders, now were rightfully angry beasts, looking down at thier captor with fury.

Dirk knew what was going to happen next. It won't be pretty. The failed horde leader was beyond frightened. In front of him were slaves he had belittled and abused, whose lives he's changed for the worse. Dirk moved, crawling the ground, dragging his body away desperately with one working arm, while the other is bleeding.

But he didn't go very far.

The freed woodlanders will have their vengeance as they ran towards Dirk the Darkmore and starting beating him, foot, paws, and claws were at every corner, and all he can do was, "_AHHHHHHHH!_"

* * *

_**Badger Lord Roxton Shadowsword**_

The warlord's death was not pretty. No, indeed. It... almost made Roxton want to hurl. The mob tearing the horde leader with such viciousness and hatred that it almost made Roxton pity the rat. Almost.

It's been a minute, and Dirk should be dead by now.

"_MY EYES! DON'T-_"

_Nevermind_.

"Oh, by Martin," Sergeant Frederick, the blue-coated hare, looked like he wanted to hurl himself. "His outsides are _outside_. How is he still _alive_?"

Private Ackley, the newer recruit for the Long Patrol, did hurl. Frederick moved a few steps away from him. The private moaned. "We killed a lot of vermin, but's _never_ like this. It's usually a lot quicker, and a lot less gory," he looked at the rampaging scene again, seeing an eyesocket flew. "Oh - _I have to go again_-" Ackley threw up on the ground.

Ol' Frederick shook his head and turned to Roxton. "Maybe this was a bit much?"

"I didn't expect this poetic death to be this brutal," he replied honestly.

The old hare hummed accordingly, sounding very unimpressed. He nudged to the mob of freed captives. "You thought _this_ would be poetic."

The Badger Lord rubbed his head nervously. "...Yes?"

"Just do it the old fashion way next time, boyo."

"Understood," Roxton said, not willing to argue with one of his oldest companions about this. And besides, that vermin was the scum of the earth, as long as he's dead, it doesn't matter whatever way his dark-hearted soul leaves the earth.

He's been far too late to save the beasts, and he may as well give the captives a little closure after what the rat has done to them.

A cough was heard behind Roxton and Frederick.

The two main commanders of Salamadastrom turned to see a one-armed squirrel, who is currently bleeding from a wound near his stomach, but doesn't seem all too concerned about it.

"You need some help there, chum?" the Long Patrol sergeant said.

The squirrel looked at his wound and waved a paw. "What? No. It's fine," he looked at the scene of woodlander rampage and tilts his head. "They are going to be at it for a while, aren't they?"

"Quite," Roxton said. He notices the hardened look in the eyes of the squirrel. _Eyes of a warrior_, he notes. He would know, having them himself. "May I have your name, good sir?"

"My name is Ozmund, M'lord," he introduced and smiled. "And let me be the first to thank you. You saved my life in the nick of time," he frowned. "Now, I have to figure out what to do with it."

Roxton felt the squirrel's sadness and melancholy, and he did not doubt that Ozmund lost someone very dear to him. "You're welcome to Salamadastrom for some rest, Ozmund. If only for the time being, and the same offer goes to everyone else."

"Much appreciated," said the old squirrel, and sighed. "I... think I'll take you up on that offer. My old bones could use it."

A Long Patrol private soon came up to Roxton and saluted cheerfully. "M'lord. We won the day! All the remaining vermin from the fight have been captured!"

And now the day has been officially won, not that he had any doubts.

"What do we do the prisoner's, sir?" asked the private.

He was curious about that answer. So was Ozmund and Frederick, all of them were looking at Roxton for the solution.

And he had one.

"We do what we always do with vermin prisoners, we-"

Mossflower was secure once again. In the end, that's all that matters.

* * *

**A/N: How does that feel? I'm leaving you all to wonder what Roxton is going to be doing to them, cause I ain't telling. You know, I always wonder what happened to the losing side of every failed horde leader in the books? Do the remaining horde escape or are they all killed? Or maybe I never saw that part of the books somehow. *shrugs***

**Whatever the case, these guys: Ozmund, and Roxton. They're not the main story. And _Dirk_. He was just another horde leader, being the regular cruel one-note bastard like all the others - _that's something I want to avoid. _This story won't be black and white. But in any case, this is possible the only Mossflower chapter that will be appearing in a long while. I got the whole Waste to plan out - _real _villains to make.**

**Reviews:**

**Casterway: Yeah, I'm glad it got things done, plotwise. Grammer - well, that's something I still need to work with. And yes, I do have discord.**

**Pyrah: Glad you like the story! Yep. 'Sandy' is a fennec fox. **

**Ester rose fox: I love my stuff too! *dancing* _Oh_.. I don't think you meant my awesome dancing moves, did you? XD Thanks for the review.**

**The Grey Coincidence: Glad someone thought it was funny. You're right the first time about Icewing being a vulture, but for the record, some vultures aren't bald(EX: Cinereous vulture). Well, at least there's some sadness. As for the emotional timing for Oakleaf's little breakdown... you're right. It could have been better. To be fair, Oakleaf was still pretty out of it with 'Sandy'(I'll get to his real name next chapter) dragging him around, and it didn't leave him much headspace. Or better yet, he was in _denial_, and didn't want to confront the truth until 'Sandy' told him. Maybe it could've have been better, but I ain't changing it. Thanks for the honest here, needed to hear it and I'll try to improve. **


	5. Chapter 5: Jangwa

**BETA-READER: CasterWay**

_**Oakleaf**_

There was a bit of crying (a smidge really). Oak needed some time to rest and think for himself. And it was nice to have a bed - it's been a long week without one, he's been sleeping on the ground the whole trip.

It's just - he needed some time for himself. For mourning for his friends, he remembers playing catch with them, and that they made up a game called cat-in-the middle. It was a fun time, and then Oak decided to become a guard for Treefort. Ol' Ozzy trained him with a bow (Oak wishes he had one right now). Ozmund was always so strong, despite his age.

He missed Ozmund the most, he's a strict bossy squirrel, but he's always been there for Oak. Ozmund was his father, in all but name. Wonder what he'd say now? _"OAK! Get off your lazy behind, Its only early morning! Either train your archery or help out the town! We have no use for slackers here in Treefort!" _Imaginary Ozzy said to him.

...Right, he _never _let him have any sleep (or much of it, at least). _Ever_. For as long as Oak was alive. Strange. He never thought he'd miss that. But does he though..._ No Oak, you do miss the old geezer. His antics less so, but you miss him nevertheless. _

There are happy memories he can remember.

"_Point it right there, Oakleaf. That acorn between those two trees," said Ozmund, eyeing a younger smaller Oak as he pulled back his bowstring. "Easy now." _

_"I know what I'm doing, Ozzy," Oak sounded irritated, but wanted to focus upon his target rather than pay attention to his overly cautious mentor. He moved the bow a bit forward, waited for a little for the wind to blow to down, and fired his arrow. The arrow elegantly swooned in a nearly straight line, and it successfully knocked the acorn backward. Oak felt pride in managing it._

_Ozmund smiled, "Impressive. Now, how about... the acorn up there." He looked up the tree, at that one lone acorn attached to a branch, and so did Oak. The younger squirrel took out another arrow from his quiver, reloaded his bow, raised his bow higher, pulled the string, and the arrow flew. It landed true, and what remained of the acorn fell towards the ground. Oak grinned. He has only recently been doing this, and so far, he's a natural at archery._

_His mentor patted Oak's shoulder. "Good work there. Much better than your cooking abilities." With that, Oak felt his once pleasant mood plummet and he cast a look towards Ozmund. The older squirrel noticed it, "Oh, don't look at me like that. You near burned down our home." He felt his face burn from embarrassment from that memory.  
_

_"You don't have to mention it," Oak mumbled. _

_"Reminding you of your failures makes you more humble, and that's going to be better for everybeast," Ozmund said, taking out his sword with his one remaining paw - his sword paw. "At least you're not a complete failure with weapons, but do you think you'll be good with swords as well?"_

_Oak shook his head. "I don't think anyone's here is as good as you with a sword, Ozzy." The young squirrel looked at his aging mentor - he's a tall broad-shouldered squirrel despite his age - and he couldn't help but notice his missing right arm. Oak can only imagine what warrior Ozmund must have been when he both his arms. "Ozmund, do you think one day you'll tell me what happened to your arm?"_

_Perhaps it wasn't the best topic to choose, but Oak couldn't help but be curious. Ozmund glanced at his missing arm and grimaced. "One day, not today. When your older, I suppose." _

_The younger squirrel knew that was the best he was going to get; hopefully, he will get to hear the story at a later time. Right now, however, he shot at acorns. _

It was a pleasant memory that Oak found himself in, and one that only made himself feel nausea. Ozmund was there for him always, and it felt wrong now that he was gone.

He groaned, putting a paw in his stomach where the bandages are. Events moved by quickly - Treefort getting attacked, being held captive by a long-eared fox who apparently saved him, fighting a scorpion, and being saved(again) by a large bird named Icewing. Oak still wasn't sure what to make of the fox, he did put a _collar_ around his neck. He hated _that_ experience, not to mention bringing him here in the Wastes.

_What's even here in the Wastes?_ Oak couldn't help but ask himself. He did find himself a bit curious. It seems like there could be more than meets the eyes here. So far, its only been desert, but clearly, there's more to it. Then again, there's a chance this is simply a land full of vermin and their homes. It might not even be someplace Oak would like.

_But where else can I go? No friends, no home, and no Ozmund. _

It's about time he stopped mourning, the squirrel figured. Oak stood up from his bed with minor aches from his wounds and went outside. Just as he expected, he saw an endless view of sand, but there was other noticeable features from what he can see. The tent he was in was large, clearly Icewing sized, but he saw other smaller tents, each of different shapes and sizes. There was a large wooden structure shaped like a '**T**' with a pillow on top, perhaps Icewing's lookout post. What stood out the most was the _river_. A natural water source, finally. Oak doubted there was anything but desert in the Wastes, but the squirrel was happy to be wrong for once.

This outpost - Oak guessed - was well placed, at least.

"Sandy! Foxie should go back home!" Icewing's voice shouted when Oak stopped scouting the camp. He turned and saw the largest bird (maybe even beast) glaring down at the fox. "Sandy's family has been worried sick. It's time to go back."

Impressively, the fox wasn't intimidated by the much larger Icewing who's glaring at him. He calmly says, "I have other business elsewhere. I don't believe now is the time go back, they can wait a few moments."

"Oh?" Icewing twitched her head, looking curious. "And what is this 'business' littlefoxy speaking off? Is littlefoxy not going to tell Aunty Icewing?"

"I made a promise not tell anyone," he resisted, but the fox did sound annoyed.

"Lies," the giant bird said bluntly. "Littlefoxy has been gone for far too long. Icewing think's littlefoxy is scared of meeting foxy. Scared of going home."

"I'm not-"

She cut him off, "Icewing _will_ carry Sandy by her talons if she has to. Icewing doesn't care of whatever excuse littlefoxy made up, but littlefoxy will go home. Question is: Will Icewing have to force Sandy to go home?"

'Sandy' didn't answer, instead he turned his snout in another direction. He blinked as he saw Oak, and decided to address the squirrel, "Hello..." he trailed on, "I believe it's strange to ask now, but what's your name?"

They've been traveling for some time, yet they never asked each other that question, did they? Strange. Then again, 'slave' and 'squirrel' wasn't anything to warrant any friendliness for each other.

"Don't ignore Icewing's question!" she squawked.

"Ignore the vulture," the long-eared fox said, not reacting to the scary large bird's glare. _So, she's a 'vulture'? Are they all so large? Are they like falcons and eagles? _Oak never heard of vultures before, but Icewing terrifies him. Beaks aren't supposed to be so large.

"Why don't you introduce yourself first?" Oak asked, oozing with some bitter hostility. He's allowed to be.

The fox simply nodded. "I suppose that's warranted." He put his paw to his heart and did a small bow. "My name is Sandremark marl Arcwaters. Heir to the Arcwaters Family, and I apologize for my behavior."

Icewing rolled her eyes. "Just called littlefoxy Sandy. His stupid name is stupidly long."

"I think..." Oak says as he grins. "I will do just that, Sandremark is a bit of mouthful."

Sandy glared at both of them, clearly a little peeved off by this disrespect. He then quickly resigned himself to it, he addressed to Oak, "I urge not to say this nickname while in proper company. They might not appreciate it or tolerate it. Now, your turn?"

Oak smiled at putting Sandy a little on edge and introduced himself. "I'm Oakleaf of Treefort. But call me Oak."

The squirrel was not expecting a minor silence by the two beasts, but it was soon followed by mad crackling by Icewing, and Sandy looked like he was struggling not to smile. Oak instantly glared at them in turn. "What's so funny?! There's nothing wrong about my name!"

"That's what your home was called - _Treefort_," Sandy said, he didn't look or sound incredulous, but Oak sensed it. "A literal _fort_ that was hidden in _trees_. And you all named it Treefort."

"I get it! It wasn't very creative, I didn't name the damn place!" he shouted, and Icewing was still crackling. "Stop laughing!"

"And there's still the grave matter of your name," Sandy commented.

"It's a perfectly fine name!"

Icewing chuckled, "It sounds like whoever made named Oakleaf didn't put anything thought at all in naming him! Do you also jump trees? Are you good with bows?"

"Yes to both accounts," he answered, annoyed.

"What a stereotype!" Icewing was back to laughing. Even Sandy couldn't help but snort.

Oak scowled at Sandy - he wasn't going to start anything with the ginormous vulture - and spat, "And what about _Sandremark_? It has the word 'sand' in it. And guess what?" He raised his arms dramatically. _"We are surrounded by sand!"_

"My name is purely traditional," _Sand_y answered. "It has nothing to do sand."

"Whatever you say, Sandy," the squirrel grinned, as the fox scowled.

Strangely, the tension has gone away - or, at least a little of it - it helps that Sandy is being a goodnatured and reacting to it with some emotion. Oak believes Sandy to be unflappable towards most things, and well, him telling Oak about his home burning down without any hint of emotion rubbed the squirrel the wrong way.

Icewing rubbed her eyes with her feathers, wiping away a few tears. "We needed to hear that. Your levity is thanked."

"All I did was tell you my name," Oak said, and _no_ \- he did _not_ mumble it.

"It's a stupid name," Icewing grinned as Oak made a growling noise. "Oaksquirrel should change his name like how Icewing did."

The squirrel stirred at that and looked at her curiously. "Wait, you changed-"

"Oh!" The vulture squawked, she turned around to a different direction. "Lookie there! It's time those dumb footbirds can in!"

Sandy did a double-take and said to Icewing, "You called them?" It wasn't something you can tell by looking at the fox, but he was most probably annoyed at this. "I told you, I'm not going."

"Wait? Who? Where?" the confused squirrel asked. Oak now suddenly realized that he still didn't know much about the setting he's in. He's from the Mossflower, not the Wastes. He still has much to learn.

The giant vulture didn't reply, some other beast did it for her. A rather loud voice.

"CREW AND ZURI ARE HERE!"

_Who?_ Oak questioned as he warily eyed two feathered creatures that were heading towards them. Another type of bird Oak has never laid eyes on. Long legs, blue tailfeathers, a pattern of brown and white streaks minus their white underbelly. Then he noticed something stranger on them: they have some kind of brown hide strapped on their back.

Oak assumes - correctly - that these beasts were made for speed. As evidence, they leave a trail of desert dust in their wake until they stopped in front of the squirrel, fox, and giant vulture.

The bird with a blue mohawk styled feathers, he saluted to Sandy with a silly grin. "Crew is here, heir littlefox. Remember me. _Ack_-" Crew was slapped behind his head by the other bird's wing and glared at her. "Why Zuri hit Crew!?"

"Because that is an entirely rude way to speak to a son of Lord Arcwaters, Crew," Zuri, as the other bird was called, glared at her fellow bird. She didn't have a mohawk; instead, she has a bright orange facial feature that looks like eyeliner, but it's most likely isn't one. Zuri turns to Sandy, she smiled. "Heir Arcwaters, I welcome you back home. It's been a long time, and everyone has been worried, I as well."

"Wait, did you say 'I'?" Oak abruptly asks. Perhaps there are other questions to ask, but it was strange to hear a bird say it.

"Ah!" Zuri flapped her wings, annoyed, and glared at Oak. "Yes, I said '_I_'! Birds can speak in first person. We can teach ourselves this, but _most_ of us don't. And then, I have to put with that same irritating question." She then glowered and pointed her beak at Icewing. "I know this hooligan bird can use proper vocabulary, but she chooses to talk in third-person. And well, Crew is just an idiot, so no one bothers teaching him."

"OI!" that offended bird squeaked.

"Icewing doesn't need to use earthwalker tongue. Icewing is Icewing, and she loves hearing her name," the vulture puffed proudly, causing Zuri and Sandy to roll their eyes.

Zuri tsked. The long-legged smaller bird didn't agree with Icewing obviously. She reminds Oak of Ozmund or an elder when he's misbehaving. "Other beasts will think you're a simpleton."

The vulture spread out her rather long wingspan, and Oak thinks it makes her look like a hunter or some winged monster. Her grin is only making her scarier. "Icewing would like to see anybeast say that to her face." She left it at that and folded her wings back."Then again, you two aren't real birds."

"Crew is more bird than you!" the outraged bird shouts. "Crew will fight you, any time and any place. Icewing name it, and Crew will beat you! Just you- _Ack_!" Once more, Zuri hit the back of Crew's head.

"Crew, stop being an idiot," Zuri said, Crew opened his beak, but she stopped him from saying anything. "Don't pick a fight with _her_ of all birds." Thankfully, Crew's self-preservation won out and decided to be quiet.

Icewing pushed Sandy forward with her beak, "Let's get going. Icewing put much effort into these two roadrunners."

Sandy merely looked resigned by this. He sighed and turned to the giant vulture. "You're as irritable as I remember."

"And littlefoxy loves me for it," she smirks. "Now, get on Zuri's saddle." Icewing turns to Oak. "And stupid squirrel will get to sit on equally stupid Crew."

"I'm not stupid/Crew not stupid!" both Oak and Crew protested simultaneously, and then both turned to look at one another.

Icewing chuckled while Zuri grinned, Sandy didn't join in the amusement. "Only idiots would react like that. Now get on the saddle, woodlander," the vulture says.

_A saddle?_ Oak eyed those things on the two birds - roadrunner's if Oak heard Icewing right - back. He saw Sandy easily getting on Zuri's saddle, and Oak isn't sure how any beast would be comfortable wearing such a thing. _Wait a moment_, the squirrel stopped. _They haven't asked me if I wanted to go wherever they are going._ It annoyed the squirrel quite a bit, but he can't help but be a bit curious about where this group was going.

Then again, where else can Oak go? Back to the Mossflower? Everyone he used to know is dead. Not to mention, his home went through vermin armageddon. _I got nowhere else to be_, the squirrel thought to himself in sad realization. _May as well see where this rabbit hole goes, as the saying went._

... Oak was a bit embarrassed to say, but he didn't quite know how to get on the saddle. Well, he did get on, but then he fell into the sand. At the very least, no one was laughing. Perhaps there was a bit of pity, but everybeast realized this was his first time. Crew attempted to help, but his advice didn't work, it only resulted in Oak falling once more. Icewing got annoyed by my attempts, so she picked him up with his beak and placed him on top of Crew's saddle. Both squirrel and Crew glared at her when she muttered "idiots" and chuckled. The two looked at each other, and a sense of comradery was formed over the fear and anger at the giant feathered bully.

And they were off at incredible speed. Crew and Zuri zoomed away with Oak and Sandy on top of them, while Icewing was flying over them.

"Smell strange, foxyfriend, why is that?" Crew asked as he continued to run. The squirrel was making sure to keep a tight grip on the saddle's rope.

Oak looked down at the roadrunner in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"Crew! He's from the Mossflower! A woodlander! He's new here!" Zuri screamed at her fellow running bird.

"Oh," he blinked in realization, then he moved on to a different question, "How does woodwalker like Jangwa so far?"

"Jangwa?"

"The land most beasts from your Mossflower country call the Wastes," Sandy answered, having a straight back and holding onto his rope throughout the motions. He looked untroubled on a saddle, showing his experience in this kind of travel. "A bit offensive, having our land being called that. But we'd rather Mossflower be ignorant rather than produce some army of misplaced 'heroes' to kill what the beasts they believe to be wrong. Mossflower does hold a rather interesting way of life that we in Jangwa don't wish to copy."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Oak asked, angered. The way the fox said it doesn't make it sound charitable.

Sandy looked forward. "The view of black and white. The goodbeasts and the vermin. The divide there. That goodbeasts are always morally good and vermin shall always be the villains." He turned to Oak. "There is some base of truth, I admit. But most beasts simply want to be left alone, even those you consider 'vermin'. Farm and toil, but at times, 'goodbeasts' don't leave _them_ alone. And so, it makes a cycle of mistrust and hordes."

"So what? You're saying _we_ make the hordes happen?"

"No, perhaps not intentionally, but goodbeasts biases tend to be against or outright hostile against certain beast species - such as foxes," Oak winced. The squirrel knew this to be true. "But I admit. Certain ambitious beasts are vile and cruel, such as Dirk the Darkmore," Oak paws clamped up around the rope from hearing his name, "who earned the 'vermin' title."

"I would say so," the squirrel muttered, but in truth, the fox did give him much to think about. "And Jangwa. Are you saying it's not as bad as the Mossflower then?"

"No. Jangwa can be as cruel as the Mossflower, but beasts don't kill others based on what species they are."

At that, Oak couldn't find much argument. In Treefort, he only ever heard of vermin kind to be a menace. Ugly beasts with black souls that should be put down before they make goodbeasts their slaves. It's something Oak feared from Sandremark, and so far, Oak was justified in his fear - considering there was a collar around his neck not too long ago.

This fox just confuses the Hell Gates out of him. But, what he says, it has some measure of truth.

"Why is this place called Jangwa?" Oak needled. May as well pass the time and get some information. Also, he'd rather avoid thinking about the Mossflower at the moment.

"For one, we have more creativity than those out in the west," the fox snarked. Crew laughed at that and Oak gave the bird a nasty look. "As for your answer, Jangwa originates from the jaguars. A time where this land used to be as green as yours, and once ruled great jaguar kings. They are gone, of course, but it's interesting to imagine such a time."

_Exactly know many new species are out here?_ Oak asked himself. _And what in the name of Martin the Warrior even is a jaguar? _Another thing Oak is ignorant of. It's turning out to be a big list, and he's getting a bit frustrated with it. The Wastes - or rather, Jangwa - has its history, and Oak is partially interested in it, but he'll get to it at another time. Now a different question must be answered.

"But now, I believe I should ask where we are going?"

"You mean you don't know!" Zuri sounded surprised. "Oh, yes, I forget. You are an ignorant woodmuncher."

"We are going to _Hanasha_!" Crew shouted joyfully, eager to explain. "The gem city of Jangwa! It has wonderful sights, many beasts, and a giant snake somewhere! Oakleaf will love it!"

"What was that last one?"

"It's just a myth. Don't worry too much," Zuri reassured. Sandy nodded. Oak hopes Crew is joking about that last bit, if there's one thing Oak is scared of, it's snakes. Zuri turned to look at the sky, so did Sandy. Oak followed to where they were looking at and lifted his head.

Birds. About seven of them, perhaps more in the distance. Icewing grunted. She glowered ahead and flew with grace as she went to the flock.

"So, those weren't Icewing's birds?" Sandy questioned.

Zuri shook her head. "No. She wouldn't be flying towards them like that. Those are more likely troublemakers. Birds of the worst kind."

"Wait! Those are bandits!" Oak put two to two together and didn't quite like the number of birds there. He very much would've like to have a bow on him. He's positive he can shoot, even in his current uncomfortable position on the roadrunner. Still, Icewing has headed towards them alone and despite knowing her only a few hours, the squirrel can't help but be worried. "Why is Icewing going out there alone?! She's outnumbered!"

Crew laughed at the Oak. "Don't worry about Icewing, woodmuncher. Icewing the fiercest bird in all of Jangwa. Those birds don't stand a chance against her."

"Are you wanted to pick a fight with her!?"

"Well..." Crew looked away at first but later puffed out his feathers. "Crew is still strong! He can take Icewing, anytime and anywhere!"

Zuri and Sandy rolled their eyes, and Oak looked incredulous at the suicidal roadrunner. Sandy coughed in his paw, "Crew, despite his short-comings, is right. She can handle herself. After all, before she changed her name. Icewing used to be called Terrora the Ravager."

Oak blinked and slowly looked at the giant vulture that gliding away.

As if she wasn't scary enough.

* * *

**WARNING: SOME GORE**

_Icewing/Terrora the Ravager(don't call her that though)_

And so, Icewing flaps away. Feeling the wind blow through her feathers. The larger than average vulture looks at this idiotbirds ahead._ Eight of them_, she thought. She eyed them closer. _Mostly vultures and a hawk. _Will she have to fight these banditbirds? Very likely, but Icewing has been on battlefields and fought larger creatures.

_Why couldn't her minio- er, soldiers do something about this?_ Icewing sighed. _You want something done right, do it yourself._

In the sky, the Icewing stopped to be in front of the small gang of birds. It's easy to see the unease on the others, as perhaps, they are smart enough to realize the awesome power that is Icewing. And if they haven't heard of her - perhaps being twice as big as they would intimidate them a small bit.

Icewing is disappointed that she doesn't see a handsome bird among them. It's hard to find a mate these days. Icewing's plan was for kidnapping a handsome bird, forcing him into submission, and showing him that Icewing is the dominant bird. She planned on getting an egg or two. All her friends have kids! It's about time old Icewing has her own! Nope, however! Too many birds are scared of her - and that makes her romantic life near non-existent!

"Ha! Look at this oldbird! Is elderbird looking to die early!?" an ugly and suicidal bald vulture in front shouted towards the rest of the flock. Despite his confident words, he did sound a little nervous.

Once more, Icewing was glad wasn't a full-blooded vulture. She'd hate being so bald and ugly as most of them. How could they even stand looking at reflections of themselves?

"Oldbird got nothing to say!" the vulture shouted. Oh good, he was still talking. "Well, maybe oldbird will scream a little after we eat oldbird! Nice and- _ACK_!"

Icewing got close enough to the other vulture that she swiped her large wing, knocking the other bird off balance. It was an instant thing. The next movement Icewing made was grabbing the silly overconfident banditbird by the neck with her sharp talons.

"We - _ah_ \- get - _ack_ \- off!" the puny vulture wings fluttered like a helpless fly, but he couldn't get Icewing's strong hold off him.

There's a very big difference between Icewing and these banditbirds. One, Icewing is stronger and taller. Second, she's an experienced fighter. Thirdly, she eats healthy while the banditbirds look as if they haven't eaten in days. Lastly, if they think numbers matter, they'll think again after they hear her name.

"Not oldbird, fool," Icewing said coldly to the vulture, sneering at him. The vulture still struggled. She turned to the other avians. "Anybird wants to come help loudbeak?"

All of them looked nervous, looking at one another, not willing enough to fight her. And the loudbeak looked annoyed at that, but he's slowing dying by suffocation midflight, so the vulture should be annoyed. "Fight - _ack_ \- _fight_!"

"Before banditbirds do fight," Icewing started and is annoyed that she'll have to say this. "All should know me as Terrora." _Her cursed name. _

Whatever feelings she has of her old name, it has the desired effect. All the others were now looking at her like she's rabid, backing away instantly. Terrora the Ravager. It's not a name she's particularly proud to have, so she changed it. But she'll use it when she has to. For she long learned, names have power. Her name has a well-earned reputation - one to be feared.

"So what! - ack - eight of us, one of her! - ack - help!" the vulture cried, still flapping its useless wings and beak.

A cruel smile formed on Icewing. "What help?"

The vulture choked as he saw the other banditbirds already leaving. He stopped moving now, simply content Icewing to hold him by her talon. He now had a pleading look on its eye. "Please don't kill me."

Icewing snorted. How cowardly. Shame, had he been braver, he could have been recruited. But the vulture has no backbone. He has no use to her or her country. "No," she said simply. "Icewing is me. And an example should be made."

With that, she used her other sharp talon and clawed out his stomach. The vulture screamed in pain, loud enough so that those fleeing hears it. Icewing clawed once, twice, three times - and some of the vultures innards were leaking along with much blood. The blood and intestines were falling from the air. Soon, the vulture finally shut it's beak and died. Icewing threw the vulture's carcass and watched it fall like a potatoe sack. There's always something captivating to Icewing about seeing dead birds falling.

Satisfied, Icewing went back to her group with bloodied talons.

Zuri and Crew - amusing little flightless things - were looking grave when they saw her but wasn't too affected. They understood examples and death here.

Littlefoxy was as stoic as ever. He's got the best of both parents, Icewing thinks fondly.

But the large vulture was mostly waiting for the squirrel's reaction. She was not disappointed as the Oakleaf looked at her in surprised horror (Icewing relished it). Most likely never seen much death - Icewing has heard that woodlanders were softer. Best remind the squirrel that Jangwa is often brutal.

* * *

**A/N: And so, there's that. Yeah... this place is called Jangwa. Not the Wastes. There's going to be a bit of world-building and some characters here. Like birds, some can be funny. Some can be ruthless. Icewing can be both. What do you guys think about all the characters here? **

**Reviews: **

**The Grey Coincidence: Well, I wasn't expecting Dirk to be pitied, he was just careless and cruel warlord. Yeah, like many of us, I'm not doing the whole - goodbeasts are good and badbeasts are bad logic. I believe that all beasts can be assholes. XD As for the Trader, he's going to be mentioned soon. In like, three to four chapters. And Ozmund, yeah, I love that Oak thinks he's died. Really makes future flashbacks more ironic. Nice to see that you like Icewing! What do you think of her now?**

**Lord demon: Suspenseful? Yeah, wish it wasn't. So, I saw the trailer, I see where you were going with the old Egyptian necromancy thing. Definitely something to consider along these lines. There will be jackals at least! ;) Also, don't worry. The Long Patrol won't go to the Wastes/Jangwa. They think it's still... a Waste. **

**Pyrah: Wow, you certainly got over Dirk's death quickly. XD Thanks for the review! Glad you're enjoying the story!**

**Casterway: I like moral complexity. Not to say I don't like black and white stories, I mean, Redwall is like that, but it's just more... realistic for me with grey themes. Maybe cause I'm old. ****There's not going to be a Mossflower POV in a very long time, don't worry. I just wanted to make one chapter up with Long Patrol and a badass Badger Lord cause I always wanted to.**


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